19
“Are you enjoying the desert?” the Sheikh asked, glancing at the slender, tall woman who stood before him in the day-chambers of the Royal Palace of Johaar.
Amir knew who she was, of course. He’d noticed her three years ago standing by Lora’s side during that fateful tour of the Royal Palace, the day his father died, the day one impulsive kiss led them all down a path that was leading to . . . ya Allah, where was it leading? Lora was on a plane back to the United States, and her best friend was standing here before him, wearing all khaki like she was going on a jungle safari.
“Oh, the outfit?” Carmen said. “I just got this.”
“Very nice,” said the Sheikh, smiling gently when he saw that she had every button fastened. This meeting was clearly about Lora, and immediately he knew he could trust this woman—at least when it came to matters of her best friend. “What can I do for you, Miss Carmen.”
Carmen shook her head and returned the smile. “This is more about what I can do for you,” she said, her voice steady even though the Sheikh could see she was slightly nervous.
Amir stiffened at the statement. Was this woman going to set her own price for delivering Lora to him? Was his first instinct to trust Carmen unfounded? Perhaps all his instincts were wrong. After all, Lora was gone, even after that incredible encounter with her. Had she felt nothing? Had it meant nothing? Ya Allah, perhaps he should just marry Marissa and get it over with! After all, Marissa was right in that it would be a political coup: East meet West. Or Middle East meets Eastern Europe. Or something like that. Either way, it would raise the profile of Johaar and encourage tourism and foreign investment in a way that might have made his father proud.
But then he remembered his father’s words about life outside of politics: “Perhaps you need to find a woman who will make you want no one else,” the old man had said.
So Amir held his tongue and listened to what Carmen had to say.
“She’s all turned around. Messed up,” Carmen said. “This thing with Mark, the baby, whatever happened with the two of you in the hotel the other night . . . she’s so turned around she doesn’t know which way is up. On the one hand she feels like she’s a whore for even coming here. On the other hand she’s still holding on to a little girl’s dream of being a princess, of marrying a prince and living happily ever after.”
“Technically I am a king, not a prince,” the Sheikh said, smiling as he tried to downplay the inexplicable sense of joy that whipped through him. Yes, of course. He could see it in Lora: That love of fantasy that had brought her to Johaar in the first place, to have a wedding in an exotic Eastern kingdom. And then she’d returned when her marriage failed . . . returned to him, even though she hated herself for doing it, even though it made her feel like a—
“And which one is she, princess or whore?” Amir asked, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at Carmen, her sudden expression of anger telling him everything he needed to know about Lora. She was all princess—and perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps that’s why she’d run.
“I’ll be the first to admit that all women have a bit of both those qualities in them,” Carmen said after taking a long breath as if she was trying to calm herself down. “But if anyone is all starry-eyed princess, it’s Lora Langhorne. I mean, she actually believed Mark would be faithful, that he’d be a good husband, a good father, a good . . . man.” She snorted and shook her head.
“And so perhaps whatever beliefs she has about me are equally naïve,” said Amir, folding his arms across his broad chest and strolling across the sprawling day-chambers towards the balcony. He turned away from Carmen, gazing across his kingdom and towards the rolling dunes in the distance. “After all, I assume the both of you have looked me up, read about my past. The Internet has a long memory.”
“You’ve clearly been around the block over the years,” Carmen said without skipping a beat. “But I will say that I haven’t seen even one gossip columnist or tabloid writer ever suggest that you cheated on a woman. Even those stories about you seeing multiple women at once make it clear that you weren’t lying to any of them, that each of them knew they were sharing you.”
Amir turned, his jaw tight, green eyes narrowed. “And yet you are here. Is that what you want for your friend? A man who will openly lay with many women?”
“Of course not. But those reports were from years ago, and you’ve never married. And since you’re free to take multiple wives, clearly that’s not what you want. You want Lora. I saw it in the way you kissed her three years ago, and I saw it in the way you kissed her three days ago.”
The Sheikh took a breath as his father’s words came rushing back to him. Still, he’d been wrong about a woman before. And this woman was now ten thousand miles away. “So what would you have me do? Chase her down in New Orleans?” He shook his head. “Three years ago I was not thinking clearly. As for three days ago . . . who knows. Who knows what I was thinking.”
“We all know what you were thinking when you kissed her three years ago,” Carmen said without batting an eyelid. “It was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. You wanted her. That’s it.” She paused and took a breath. “And she wanted you.”
The Sheikh laughed. “Of course I wanted her. As for what Lora wanted . . . well, that is for her to say.”
“Lora said it the only way she’ll ever say it. Despite what happened with you two at the hotel, she’ll deny it because she’s terrified of what it means. Or rather, of what it might mean.”
“And what does she think it might mean?”
Carmen sighed. “She thinks it might mean nothing. Or it might mean everything.” She shook her head slowly and smiled. “And either of those options are terrifying to her. She’s caught in that scary place where she isn’t sure if she’s a prostitute or a princess, and so she’s running for her life.”
The Sheikh turned away from Carmen once again, his jaw tightening as he gazed out across his capital city once more. The sun was getting lower as afternoon moved to evening, and the minarets and domes of Johaar were ablaze in fiery golden light. Amir thought for a moment, taking slow breaths as he did it. Then he turned back to Carmen.
“I cannot go after her,” he said quietly. “Lora may be as you say: All princess, all childlike innocence, all woman. But I have been wrong about women before. And I have made some poor decisions when following my impulses: The poorest of which might have been to invoke Sheikh’s Privilege with regard to your friend. Now she is not sure if she wants me for who I am or if she wants me for what I am, and I am not sure if I want her for who she is or if I simply feel the need to fulfill the expectations of the tradition.”
Carmen frowned, her left eyebrow rising. “Expectations of a tradition that hasn’t been invoked in a century? So whose expectations are these? Certainly your people aren’t waiting to pass judgment on you for not following up on that archaic tradition. In fact, I’d have to think they’d freak out a bit if you did follow up on it! Because then every man in Johaar is going to wonder if the king is about to claim his wife if he isn’t a perfect husband.” She frowned again, but this time there was a smile hidden inside. “Not a bad system, I’d say. But then not every woman thinks like I do.”
The Sheikh laughed and clapped his hands once. “All right,” he said. “So what is it you would have me do, Miss Carmen? You came here saying you had a plan.”
“I do have a plan. But it’s going to cost you.”
“How much?” said the Sheikh, matching Carmen’s smile with his own.
“Twenty-one million dollars.”